


your body heals

by Fandom_trash



Series: everything heals [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mentioned Negan, Nightmares, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, from a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:00:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9847892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_trash/pseuds/Fandom_trash
Summary: Carl has a nightmare after they get back from the first meeting Negan with that forces Rick to have a conversation they should've had a long time ago.(Basically Carl has PTSD from being sexually assaulted and people actually help him with it instead of pretending it never happened)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm beyond furious that Carl being sexual assaulted has never been addressed and was used as a plot device so I addressed it myself. If you want something done right you have to do it yourself

It had been a long night.

That was truly an understatement, but there was too much to say and frankly, Rick didn't feel like reliving this night any sooner than he had to. Returning back home and telling everyone had been enough for him. Michonne stood by his side the whole time he was explaining what had happened to the rest of Alexandria, but after they got away from the crowd she wandered off without another word. He wasn't offended, he wanted to be alone too. Carl hadn't stayed to talk.

As soon as they set foot inside the walls, the boy had gone straight to the house, mumbling that he was tired. His son seemed shaken from the whole ordeal and Rick had been trying to edge himself back to the house to make sure he was okay. It was too bright, he couldn't help but think as he stepped into the house. Too bright for such a horrible morning. His stomach was growling, but the idea of eating made his gut twist painfully. Instead he decided to go upstairs. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep, but he figured he should at least check on Carl. He hesitated at the door. Should he knock? If he was asleep, Rick didn't want to wake him up. He heard a quiet unhappy sound inside that made him press his ear to the door.

" _No... no.. please_ ," Carl whimpered. Rick turned the handle quietly. If his son was awake, he knew he'd be embarrassed and shut down. Peeking inside, he saw that Carl was asleep. He was moving a lot in his sleep though, fidgeting and flinching. 

"I don't... dont want... please," Carl whimpered. Rick's heart cracked a little. He reached out and gently touched the boy's shoulder. 

"Hey Carl, it's-" He started, but his son exploded in a flurry of movement. 

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone! I-I-" Carl kept pushing him away, fighting against him like he was terrified. Rick was afraid that he was going to hurt himself and acted without thinking, pinning him to the bed. Carl made a sound like he was dying and began openly sobbing. 

"It's me, it's dad. You're okay." Rick shushed him, bringing his hands away from the boy's shoulders so he didn't feel trapped. Carl curled himself up in a ball, trying to breath deeply and stop crying. 

"I'm sorry... I was having a n-nightmare," He finally breathed out. He uncurled himself from his ball and ran his fingers through his hair.

"It's alright. I shouldn't have touched you after you told me not to," Rick assured him. 

"I wasn't- I didn't know it was you," Carl admitted, focusing on wrapping a piece of hair around his finger instead of looking at Rick's face. Rick hummed. 

"We're all going to be scared of Negan for a while. It's human. We just have to overcome it," Rick said softly. Carl shook his head. 

"I'm not scared of him. I'm scared of what he could've done. Pinning me on the ground like that, I guess it just brought back bad memories." He admitted quietly. Rick felt shocked to the core. Admittedly, he'd pushed that night with the Claimers far from his mind. He preferred to think of it as the night he got Daryl back. He hadn't known what to say and Carl had never brought it up. 

"Did you think he was going to-" Rick swallowed hard "rape you?" He couldn't replace the word with anything else. No matter how much it made him want to throw up. It wasn't fair to dance around the subject when Carl was clearly in a talking mood. Typically, Rick would've been shut down long before now. 

"Yeah." He admitted, shuddering a little, "It would've been the best way to hurt us, hurt you." Rick felt his stomach twist painfully again. The boy looked so small, so vulnerable for the first time since he lost his eye. 

"Sometimes I can't stop thinking about it." He continued, surprising Rick slightly, "What would've happened if you hadn't killed them. I can see it sometimes too, when I dream. It feels so real. Like before you woke me up, I could feel him. Negan. Touching me, making me-" His voice broke off on a gag. 

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Rick asked gently. Carl flinched. 

"It's humiliating. I wasn't even raped, but I haven't been able to go more than week without having a nightmare about it." He sounded like the words were being ripped out of his throat. Rick sat down on the edge of the bed and hesitantly held out an arm for a hug. Carl gratefully moved into his father's arms. 

"You know, sexual assault is just as bad as rape. It was a crime and a lot of people have felt the same way you do and have had similar things happen to them." Carl shook his head.

"It's not the same. They didn't even do anything to me." He insisted. Rick rested his chin on top of the boy's head. 

"They did. Attempted rape is sexual assault. I've dealt with this before as a cop. It's still wrong, it's still assault." Rick said quietly, trying not to let his chin jostle his son's head. Carl pressed his face against his chest and when Rick's shirt began to feel wet he decided not to say anything. 

After several minutes of silent crying, Carl grew still, seemingly asleep. Rick wondered if he should leave or stay the rest of the night. Debating in his head, he almost missed his son finally speak again.

"I don't want to be a victim..." He admitted quietly. Rick stayed silent, unsure of what to say back. 

"Can you go? I don't mean to be rude, I just need some space." Rick nodded and let go of Carl to get out of the bed. He paused for a moment. 

"I'm sorry we didn't talk about this sooner. If you want, I can find someone here that knows more than me about this and you can start therapy of some kind." Carl kept his head down and Rick took that as his cue to get out. As he headed towards the door, slowly due to the soreness of his body, he heard a small hiccup and quickened his pace. Carl had felt humiliated enough today.

Once back in his room, the older man ran into Michonne who was brushing her teeth methodically in the bathroom. She held up a finger before spitting out her toothpaste and rinsing her mouth. Rick waited patiently for her to speak.

"You were in Carl's room?" She asked quietly. Her voice seemed to be wrecked, even though she hadn't done much yelling. 

"Yeah, how long you been back in here?" He asked back. She seemed to be focusing an awful lot for someone drying off a toothbrush. 

"Not too long. I checked on Judith first. It didn't sound like Carl would want company anytime soon." She answered. Rick flinched at that. The poor boy must have been crying louder than he thought. 

"How much did you hear?" Rick questioned, fiddling with a towel hung by the shower. She shrugged and seemed to hesitate before answering. 

"A lot. He was talking about that night. With the Claimers." She wasn't asking. Rick felt his throat tighten. He didn't like talking about this. It felt too personal, like they were talking about Carl's business. He knew that wasn't fair. She was there that night too. She saw what could have happened.

"I didn't realize it hurt him that much. I'm such a terrible father. How couldn't I have seen it?" His voice cracked on the last word and Michonne pulled him into her arms. 

"I didn't see it either. We didn't want to. We wanted to push it away and pretend it didn't happen. But Carl doesn't get that option. So neither do we. We can't pretend it didn't happen anymore. I heard you say something about therapy?" She kept them pressed close together, her words muffled slightly. 

"Yeah, if he wants to I think it would do some good. That what we used to suggest for v-victims back when I was a cop." He hated that word. It felt like sand in his mouth. His son was a victim of sexual assault. He wondered if that would ever stop making his stomach turn. Michonne nodded and let go of him, stepping away so she could look him in the face. 

"We've had a long day. Let's talk about it when we wake up, okay?" And with that they pulled the curtain on the worst and most tiring day of their lives so far.

 

* * *

 

 

The morning after  _that night_ Rick set out to talk to Aaron. He'd been at Alexandria for a hell of a lot longer than any of them had and probably had a good idea of who could help Carl. He didn't want to be a bother. Aaron had a horrible night yesterday too. Rick knew if he waited he'd put it off and it'd already been put off too long. When he rang the doorbell to Aaron and Eric's home, Eric, unsurprisingly, answered the door.

"No. No, absolutely not. You can wait for whatever you want Aaron to do. He's exhausted. And frankly you shouldn't be going anywhere either. You need to take care of yourself." Eric huffed, not moving from the doorway. Rick wasn't sure if he should feel insulted or flattered that Eric was worried about him. 

"It's nothing like that. I was just wondering if either of y'all knew someone who could help me out with something." Rick answered, deciding on flattered. 

"Well that's awful vague. What kind of help?" Eric asked, brow furrowed. Rick glanced around. No one was really out and about, but he still didn't want to get into where someone might hear.

"Can we talk inside? It's kind of private." Rick lowered his voice. The smaller man's eyebrows rose and he opened the door wider, gesturing for Rick to come inside. 

"Michonne's pregnant, isn't she?" Eric blurted out once they were inside and the door was firmly shut. Aaron rounded the corner into the living room around this time. 

"Michonne's pregnant? Congratulations!" Aaron exclaimed. 

"No! Michonne is not pregnant. For love of God, don't start that rumor." Rick denied quickly, making the couple laugh. 

"What's up then? You sounded pretty serious." Eric asked, bringing the mood back down. Aaron tilted his head in a concerned manner at hearing this.

"Well, I was wondering if either of you knew of someone in Alexandria that could work as a counselor of some sorts for Carl. He's been dealing with some trauma from before we got here and we think it'd be best if he got some help." Rick admitted. It still felt like he was saying too much, but his son needed help and he wasn't going to stand idly by anymore. Eric and Aaron nodded understandingly. 

"Well, I have experience helping teens deal with trauma." Eric answered, "Typically it's LGBT+ kids, but I'm sure I could be of help. What kind of trauma are we talking about?" 

Rick swallowed and tilted his head down before taking a deep breath to answer. 

"Sexual."

He was shocked at his own calm voice and tried not to tear up at the heartbroken expressions on the couple's face. 

"Unfortunately I have quite a bit of experience helping teens that have been sexually abused." Eric answered seriously. 

"We're happy to help anyway we can Rick." Aaron added. Rick attempted to smile gratefully but he's sure it came out as more of a grimace. There didn't seem to be much to smile about anymore. 

"I can go over now and talk to him if you want. Get us started on a schedule if that's something he's okay with." Eric offered. 

"Uh, sure, like ripping off a band aid, right?" Rick moved to the door and Eric followed him after pausing to tell Aaron to get back to bed and rest.

The walk to Rick's house had never felt so long. He knew it was what Carl needed, but he didn't feel ready in a way. After today he was no longer going to be Rick the Parent of a Handicapped Teenager. He was going to be Rick the Parent of a Handicapped and Sexually Abused Teenager. He didn't want that label on him, but he especially didn't want that label on Carl. He'd struggled so much with how people acted around him after he lost his eye. He'd seemed to getting his confidence back. It seemed like every time his kid started to get ahead the universe moved the finish line.

The front door of his home had never seemed so intimidating. Once they opened this door, it couldn't be closed again. He only hoped he was doing the right thing for his son. They entered the home and walked up the stairs, until they reached Carl's bedroom door.

"Hey Carl." He called quietly, knocking on the door, "Can I come in?" There was a soft affirmative noise inside and Rick turned the knob to the door. 

"About last night, I think maybe... oh. Sorry Eric. Didn't see you there." Carl blushed slightly at seeing the other man in his room. Rick moved further into the room and shut the door behind them.

"Actually, this is about last night. Eric says that he has experience helping teens that are dealing with sexual trauma and I t-" Rick started, but was quickly cut off by Carl jumping up from his bed with an indignant noise. 

"What? You told him? How could you do that to me?" Carl exclaimed angrily. Rick held up a placating hand. 

"Carl, just listen to me." He tried again. 

"No! I can't believe you told him! Does anyone else know?" His son demanded. 

"Just Aaron." Rick responded reassuringly. This did not reassure the boy in the slightest.

"Aaron? What the hell were you thinking, dad? Oh my god, this is so fucking humiliating. Leave! Leave me alone! Get out of my room!" Carl yelled. 

"Let's talk about this, okay? Last night you said-" This time when Rick was cut off it was by Eric. 

"Rick, why don't you give Carl and I a second okay?" The smaller man interrupted gently, reaching out to touch Carl's shoulder. The teenager smacked Eric's hand away.

"Don't touch me." He tried to growl, but his voice was airy and he looked like he couldn't get enough breath. 

"Carl, you're having a panic attack. You need to calm down or you could pass out and hurt yourself." Eric explained calmly, keeping his hands in sight and away from the boy.

"Do you still think I should go?" Rick whispered. Eric glanced over at him. 

"Yes, I think we need some privacy. Leave the door ajar when you leave please." The smaller man's attention was already back on Carl who was still struggling to get his breath even. Rick turned to go. Maybe he should've opened this door sooner. 

 

* * *

 

 

"How's he doing?" Rick asked an hour later when Eric finally walked downstairs. 

"He's fine. He suffered a small panic attack earlier, but recovered quickly. I don't know if it's convenient or just sad that he's so good at controlling his emotions." Eric responded heavily. Rick made a noise in the back of his throat. 

"I just hate that it took me so long to notice that he was hurting. I mean I was there when he was assaulted. I know how bad it could've been. I wish I would've said something." The larger man sighed. Eric put a hand on his bicep and squeezed. 

"It's not anyone's fault but the man who assaulted him. Parents like to pretend their kid is happy and well adjusted because it feels like it makes things easier. It doesn't though." Eric explained matter-of-factly. Rick lowered his head. 

"I just... don't know how much this has really affected him. What if he's been hurting himself or... I don't even know what else." The father felt defeated. 

"He's not broken. He wasn't raped so there's no physical trauma. Plus, he doesn't blame himself for what happened so that helps. His problem is the PTSD. I can't officially diagnose him with it yet, but based on the symptoms that's what it sounds like." Eric answered. Rick looked up, startled.

"PTSD? What kind of symptoms has he shown that make you think that?" Rick asked.

"Well, anxiety was shown right off the bat. Also, he admitted to nightmares, trouble sleeping, and uncontrollable thoughts about the event. Those are common in victims with PTSD." Coming from Eric, those symptoms felt detached from his son. The young, happy boy who liked comics and playing with his makeshift family. Only he hadn't been that boy for a while. 

"God, I was so stupid to think everything was okay." Rick mumbled quietly. Eric squeezed the hand still resting on his bicep. 

"Don't worry Rick. He's strong. He won't let this break him. So neither should you. You can't change the past, but you can change the future. So, does the same time tomorrow sound alright?" 

Rick didn't even have to think about it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This probably sucks but I'm kinda writing it for myself so... I'm sure it's fine


End file.
